Maddening
by Rai-channi
Summary: - Harry was just a stepping stone, a pawn for Voldemort. HP/LV Angst, AU, One shot


**Maddening**_  
_**By: Rai-channi  
**_I do not own Harry Potter  
__Contains slash, sexual situations with a minor, etc, etc. Character death! AU  
AN:/ The latest chapter of 'Innocence' is still in progress, but no worries, I am NOT dead and fully intend on getting it out sometime soon. Oh and I have this want to write one shots, angsty or otherwise. Tell me what pairings (slash only please) you'd like to see and in what type of genre. Also there are no such things as Horcruxes in my little alternate universe. C: _

_**New AN: This was just edited so that I could fix some mistakes, and maybe space it a bit so that it's easier to read. **  
_

* * *

The touches were grazes upon his skin. They skirted across his naked torso, consuming him with fire. The boy known as Harry Potter gasped. The dark man smirked and his deadly thin fingers continued to trace, continued to touch. Somewhere deep inside the recesses of his mind, Harry could register that he shouldn't be welcoming this touch, but it was so good. Pale fingers left a trail of heat in their wake. Ice cold lips whispered dark but arousing words into his ear. A body was pressed into his side; the body was taller and stronger than his own. Deep red almost burgundy eyes stared into Harry's, entrancing them, weaving a spell around him.

"_Sweet, sweet Harry, if only Dumbledore knew what his Golden Boy was doing…_" The man hissed out in a language that only the two of them could understand. Harry knew he was being used, but this touch was so intimate it was a touch he had never felt before. It ignited something within his core; hot sparks flew out to the edges of his fingertips. It was like a drug was coursing through his veins, lulling him into a world where everything was alright, he was floating on a cloud and couldn't be brought down. The fingers were always touching but not _quite_. He never touched him where he wanted to be touched the most.

"_Please, more…_" Harry begged tossing his head back, breath coming out in heavy pants, finally giving into the raging want, the desire that had slowly been building up since their first meeting like _this_. The man did not answer to his plea; he simply smirked and continued his slow caresses, not going any further. Beads of sweat formed on Harry's forehead. Did he not hear him? Harry felt like crying, his arousal was so strong. "_Voldemort, please, more..._"

"_As you wish…_" Finally the fingers dipped slowly underneath the elastic waistband of his Muggle boxers. Harry cried out. Voldemort chuckled at the writhing fifteen year old boy beneath him. He was actually pretty beautiful when he cried out in want and need. A tongue traced in area on his shoulder before the red-eyed man bit down harshly. Harry moaned, burying his face in a pillow that lay beside him.

Voldemort soon knew that this innocent teen would be under his thumb, he'd be able to manipulate him with these soft caresses, and he also knew that the boy probably wouldn't care as long as he was being touched. He smirked. Who knew the Chosen One would turn out to be so naïve? Touch him and tell him you love him and that's all it takes. Voldemort did notice that he himself no longer cared for killing the boy.

Was it love? Of course not, the Dark Lord never has and never will experience love. It was this deep infatuation that had started when he was a corporeal floating soul watching the boy, analyzing him and how he had failed to defeat him as an infant. No, he no longer wanted to kill the boy, after seeing his strength and will to fight…he instead became obsessed with breaking him, owning him. What a beautiful trophy to show the world.

Voldemort grinned maniacally. For now, let the boy believe that he's loved. Let him betray his friends and destroy his own world. Voldemort thrust into him and kissed Potter tenderly on the cheek leaving feather light kisses all over his face until he placed them on his lips.

"_I love you, Voldemort…_" Harry whispered softly. Voldemort did not reply, he just threaded one hand in between Harry's darks locks. Voldemort smirked; yes it was only a matter of time.

* * *

Harry was suddenly shaken awake from his haze of desire. He blinked and suddenly found himself in the Gryffindor Dorms with Ron looking at him worriedly. Harry blinked his pupils adjusting themselves to the light. He soon found that almost all of the boys in the dorm with them were staring at him in curiousity.

"Mate, are you okay? You were moaning and sweating in your sleep again…"

Harry brushed Ron away, the lingering of Voldemort's whispering still played against his ear drum. He told Ron he was fine, that it was just another bizarre nightmare. Ron looked at him uncertainly but in the end plodded back into his own bed. Soon everyone was asleep again and the lights were off.

Tugging down his trousers Harry touched himself thinking of Voldemort whispering to him in Parseltongue. Harry believed that Voldemort loved him back. If Voldemort did not love him, then why did he touch him in such a manner? It never crossed Harry's mind that Voldemort was ultimately using him.

Voldemort grinned, shaking himself from his own stupor. He knew the boy was just about ready to betray everything for his _love_, how pathetic. Voldemort's grin turned into a sneer at the word. Love is such a pitiful conception, it is not powerful, it does not make one stronger! It leaves a person weak and vulnerable. Allowing your enemy to strike you where it hurts the most. It sickened Voldemort to have to pretend to love this boy, no matter how beautiful; he would only be a favored pawn in this game of chess.

"_Checkmate, Dumbledore you old fool…_" At his feet his snake Nagini hissed in agreement.

* * *

Two years later the Final Battle would occur. Two years later Harry Potter would turn upon his friends, after all only Voldemort loved him, only Voldemort could care for him. Two years later the Light would crumble and cause of the Greater Good would be lost. People would refuse to believe that their Savior did this willingly. They wondered what exactly had happened. Never once would the fools shatter their rose-tinted glasses and see that Harry was happily seated by Voldemort on his promised throne right by his love's side.

Over the years Voldemort would begin to trust Harry. He soon even went as far as to wear matching rings, a sign of their equal status.

Voldemort finally felt something akin to complete happiness. He grinned as his reign stretched over the European countries, knowing that Asia was just in his reach and the Americas would be defeated in a matter of months.

"_Where shall our new summer house be, my love?_" The evil lord whispered to the figure beside him. Harry smiled.

"_Shanghai sounds nice..._" Harry hissed back, the Dark Lord nodded his consent. He leaned in and told Harry of all the people he would torture and kill for him of all the places he would conquer for him.

Three weeks later and Harry was walking through the halls of his newest mansion in Shanghai, he took it all in. He was with the only man who loved him and he was taking over the world in the name of their love, it was amazing. He went to his Lord's room and gently pushed open the door, so as not to surprise him, what he saw there tortured him more than any Cruciatus could.

The Dark Lord gently ran a finger down Bellatrix Lestrange's face, he told her words of love, the same as he did to Harry, he told her lies and kissed her softly. She immediately crumpled and smiled at him, her teeth gleaming sharp and her black eyes glinting maliciously.

"It shall be done my Lord." She whispered breathlessly before Apparating out of his private studies.

Harry felt betrayal twist in his stomach and he fled quietly. Harry sat in a chair and stared off into the dark. It all became clear to him now, clearer than it had ever been; he was just another disposable piece of trash, another stepping stone. His Lord never loved him; it was all a cruel plot to take over the Wizarding World. And to think all that he had done for his Lord, how many times he had told his Lord he loved him! The truth struck him painfully, and fury bubbled inside him. He took out his wand and stormed into his Lord's chambers screaming.

"**RIDDLE**!"

The Dark Lord questioned him on what he was doing; Harry's wand hand trembled as he explained everything he had figured out, his eyes searched his love's face, looking for any telltale sign that what he had guessed was wrong. When he was finished Voldemort's dark eyebrow rose and he chuckled.

"It took you nine years to figure all of it out? And can you believe I actually thought you had some intelligence once Potter."

Harry's jaw set, his heart was crushed completely at the sight of his Lord showing no remorse over this. The smallest bit of emotion would encourage Harry to stop but Voldemort kept up his cool façade, he sneered at Harry like one of his common servants.

"Do you honestly think you can _kill _me?"

Harry dropped his wand and bowed his head in defeat, regardless of what Voldemort had done, Harry had fallen deeply in love and he just couldn't bring himself to raise a hand against him, "No I cannot bring myself to kill you, love."

"Good, now come here and I shall forget this ever happened." Voldemort opened his arms in a welcoming embrace, smiling cruelly.

Harry took a step forward seemingly into the welcoming arms of his Lord, but instead he picked up a knife that had lay on the table and plunged it into his own chest. Voldemort watched with disinterested eyes as life disappeared from Harry's face and blood pooled at his feet. He summoned a House Elf to clean up the blood and a Death Eater to take the body out, he had no time for a fool's feelings or death.

For the first few months the Lord was as vicious as ever, he had already taken the Eastern Coast of North America. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but slowly the Lord began to feel an emptiness in his soul. Sometimes he'd find himself talking to Harry, before telling himself that the useless boy was dead, gone. It only seemed to spiral downward from there.

He soon began to hallucinate. Harry was there smiling at him, then he wasn't. Voldemort never slept anymore. He'd have dreams of him and Harry in their bedroom, sitting on the throne, strolling through London because they owned it. He would wake up screaming and sweating after these dreams, because in the end of each of the dreams he would see Harry's lifeless Avada Kedavra eyes.

The Lord became insane in a completely different way; he tortured one of his most faithful followers to death demanding to know where he had been hiding Harry all this time. He would wander the halls calling to Harry in Parseltongue, plans for his new world gone. After a year he demanded all pictures, portraits, or records of Harry Potter be sent to his private chambers.

There was one particular portrait that had been done shortly after they had together taken over Germany. In it Harry was smirking darkly, sitting upon the throne that had been his for over three years since the Last Battle. Voldemort clutched onto it and was often found staring at it, seemingly lost in another world.

One night Voldemort lay down upon his bed with the precious portrait tucked underneath his arm. He stared into the portrait's eyes that blinked up at him. The painter had not done his love's eyes any justice. He looked at the picture and whispered.

"_My love for you is maddening._"

The next day a lowly servant came in to find the Dark Lord dead, clutching the portrait.

"_My Lord," Harry asked, fiddling a bit with the arm of his throne. _

"_What is it?" Voldemort asked, red eyes glancing sideways to meet Harry's green. Harry blushed, he would feel ridiculous for asking this but he felt as if it needed to be asked. _

"_Do you believe someone can die of a broken heart?"_

_Voldemort twirled his wand absently and thought about it for a moment. _

"_I do believe someone can die of a broken heart, which is why people who love too much are weak, they can die of a 'broken heart' any day, and their love can also be manipulated against them, it is a pitiful way to live and die. People who love like that are fools," Voldemort finally hissed out. _

"_Then I am a fool," Harry whispered only to himself. _

* * *

**Gosh, that was horrible. At least, I thought so, but I'll post it anyway, ha-ha. **

**Nevertheless, I love hearing what you think so click that review button…PRETTY PLEASE FOR ME? As stated before, don't worry, I am working on the next chapter for Innocence, I intend for it to be rather long, and I've always been somewhat slow with writing. Anyway. **

**Review, review, review. **

**-Rai**


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